CONCRETE FLOORING TILES

Galveston: A Novel

Recalling the moody violence of the early novels of Cormac McCarthy and Denis Johnson, a dark and visceral debut set along the seedy wastelands of Galveston by a young writer with a hard edge to his potent literary style
On the same day that Roy Cady is diagnosed with a terminal illness, he senses that his boss, a dangerous loan-sharking bar-owner, wants him dead. Known “without affection” to members of the boss’s crew as “Big Country” on account of his long hair, beard, and cowboy boots, Roy is alert to the possibility that a routine assignment could be a deathtrap. Which it is. Yet what the would-be killers do to Roy Cady is not the same as what he does to them, which is to say that after a smoking spasm of violence, they are mostly dead and he is mostly alive.Before Roy makes his getaway, he realizes there are two women in the apartment, one of them still breathing, and he sees something in her frightened, defiant eyes that causes a fateful decision. He takes her with him as he goes on the run from New Orleans to Galveston, Texas—an action as ill-advised as it is inescapable. The girl’s name is Rocky, and she is too young, too tough, too sexy—and far too much trouble. Roy, Rocky, and her sister hide in the battered seascape of Galveston’s country-western bars and fleabag hotels, a world of treacherous drifters, pickup trucks, and ashed-out hopes. Any chance that they will find safety there is soon lost. Rocky is a girl with quite a story to tell, one that will pursue and damage Roy for a very long time to come in this powerful and atmospheric thriller, impossible to put down. Constructed with maximum tension and haunting aftereffect, written in darkly beautiful prose, Galveston announces the arrival of a major new literary talent.

Home sweet home in the late 80's. This ~1886 victorian had been converted into three flats rented at very reasonable rates.

We lived on the ground floor. A second apartment behind us was occupied by an 80-something Sicilian gentleman with the most amazing postage-stamp garden in front of the house. He and I occasionally tried to communicate in my bad schoolbook Italian and his thick Siciliano. We'd sit on the front steps and chat until one day he tried to kiss me. Needless to say it was uninvited. After that I was friendly but kept my distance. Dementia plus libido can be a troublesome combination. He had family in Galveston but didn't live with them, and I decided that was why.

He occasionally had visitors in the evenings, young men who I guessed were probably hustlers. Sometimes there would be shouting. I didn't want to intrude so I just tried to ignore it. In retrospect I wish I'd talked to the old guy's family and gotten their instructions to call them or the police when I saw something amiss.

On the right was the house where I think I once saw the surgery resident who lived there cleaning a human skull with a garden hose in his back yard. Never a dull moment in Galveston!

Ok, maybe Gavleston isn't the most beautiful place on earth, but it's not awful when the sun hits it just right.

You'll come to see that most of my photos from the cruise were shot from my 9th floor balcony of our ship, the Voyager of the Seas (by Royal Caribbean).

This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.